Almost Normal
by The Green Pilgrim
Summary: A glimpse into Scott and Jean's future as they strive for a temporarily normal life. Unfortunately, a normal life is one thing that no X-men (particularly these two) can come by so easily...


A/N: I like Evo Scott. So sue me. This is not meant to be taken seriously, so please don't.

Disclaimer: Don't own. -discontented sigh-

Note: You probably won't understand this without some basic knowledge of comic-Jean…

Almost Normal

Scott Summers hummed pleasantly to himself. He was sitting on the porch of his and his wife's quaint little house in a small rural town in New York. It was an old house, with squeaky floorboards on the porch. He liked to hear them squeak. He had purposely positioned his rocking chair over a particularly squeaky board for precisely that reason.

You see, Scott and his wife hadn't exactly lead quiet lives up to this point. For most of their young lives and their more recent adult lives they had dwelled at a place called the Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters. Here they learned how to fine-tune and use their rather exceptional gifts to their own advantage and for the better of humanity. Well… that's what they were supposed to be doing anyway. For the most part this career had led them to adventure upon adventure, not to mention the countless super-powered villains that constantly needed "telling-off".

It was entirely natural that at some point they would want a break. And so they picked up and left, if only temporarily, to their small country home in their little quiet town, where the walls were covered with flowered wallpaper instead of chrome and no repair-robots could keep the floor boards from squeaking.

Yes, Scott thought happily as he took a sip of lemonade from a plastic cup, this is the life. He grinned up at the cloudless blue sky, at the sun that was just beginning its decent to the horizon. He had only to wait for his wife to come home from her day-job at the local library, and the two of them could spend an uneventful evening reading or playing Monopoly. He smiled as he heard a car approach. That must be her now.

He was a little put out when the car that pulled up in front of his house was not his wife's but rather a police car. But he shrugged his disappointment off. After all, he liked policemen (provided they weren't trying to arrest him or getting in the way of his saving some one). He too believed in the protection of humanity.

"Good afternoon, officer," he called cheerfully from his rocking chair before standing up to greet him properly. The officer seemed nervous about something, and didn't return his smile. Scott vaguely wondered if he was being arrested, but disregarded this theory since policemen were usually a lot more confident about it.

"Mr. Summers?" the officer asked uncertainly.

Scott smiled and replied, "That's me." He hoped he had enough lemonade left to offer the policeman a cup. His wife had made it the day before, and it was a particularly good batch.

"Husband to Jean Grey Summers?"

Scott nodded, smiling at the mention of his wife. 

"I'm sorry to tell you this…" the officer began, fidgeting under Scott's steady be-sunglassed gaze, "But… your wife is dead."

This was the second time this particular officer had had to deliver such a message. The first time, it was to inform an elderly woman that her cat had been run over by a truck driver. She had quickly fallen to pieces. He figured that since this was a _person _who had died the reaction would be much worse.

This is why he was extremely surprised when Scott merely shrugged; looking mildly disappointed, and said, "Oh? How did it happen?"

The officer blinked. If the man had burst into tears, or yelled at him, tried to kill him, gone into denial- anything would have made him feel less uneasy than he suddenly felt now.

"A... a c-car accident," he said with wide eyes, struggling to keep his voice under control. 

"Oh," said Scott, shrugging again, "Bummer."

The officer finally left, leaving information about where Scott could go see his wife's body to identify that it was her for sure, and briefly who he should go to concerning funeral arrangements. He could tell the man was only half listening, and only that much so out of politeness. He had gotten out of there in a hurry, and hadn't even taken up Scott's offer of a cup of lemonade.

Scott sighed as he watched the officer drive off. He headed back to the porch, paused long enough to relish the squeaky stairs, and then went inside. It would be easier to order Chinese food for the night, he figured, that way he could heat it up later should need be. He cheerfully dialed the small town's only Chinese food restaurant and ordered for two.


End file.
